


Everlasting

by Fairy (laterie)



Series: GOETIA [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Demons, Everlasting Love, I said enough!, Inspired by Jack's 100 ways, Kisses and Cuddles, M/M, Reincarnation, poor Mark is confused, the four horsemen of apocalypse are: Luhan Tao Henry and Kris, train, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laterie/pseuds/Fairy
Summary: Is there a specific reason why is Mark obsessed with the legend about the General and his loyal hundred?There should be since he used to be the General's right-hand man.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Series: GOETIA [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748146
Comments: 11
Kudos: 90





	Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I don't like using the real names of their parents (it feels like crossing, I am sorry) so I changed it  
> 2\. I'm sorry if I messed it up a bit, Chinese culture is beautiful!  
> 3\. still didn't find beta  
> 4\. enjoy!  
> 5\. listen to Jack's 100 ways  
> 6: for my friend Alex, she's shy and I love her

Mark sipped from his herbal tea as he turned the page in his book. He was in the third year of college, studying ancient history, and right now, he was occupied by Greece and their thirst after blood. Everyone used to stab everyone, and it was _not_ considered healthy if you weren't targeted for a betrayal. Well, if Mark had anything to say about that, then it was that every _goddamn_ country had had this phase. He was born in America, but his family returned to Taiwan when he was eleven. Mark learned the language fast and clean because of his parents, who read him books in mandarin. 

When Mark was about to leave Taiwan and study in Hong Kong, his mother gave him three books that her family passed by generations. _'Wanted to give it to you as a birthday present.'_

One of the books was a collection of short stories from the Ming dynasty, which caught Mark's attention in the airplane, and he finished it once he was settled in his college room. He would swear that never once in his life, he completed a book as fast as this one. 

And not only once. 

Lu Han laughed at him, asking if he's going to ghost hunting because one of the stories was about a general who every hundred years is allowed to cross the border between the mortal world and underworld, so he could go and search for his beloved one. Mark liked the story and thought that the image of eternal love was cute and romantic – which he was – a hopeless romantic. As the best roommate Mark has ever wished for, Lu Han told him more about the legend and even showed him other school library sources. Mark had never thought he would become a bookworm so fast in his life. 

"Spring break!" Lu Han opened the door from their room, "stop reading EnEn, and let's go for a treasure hunt!" 

"No," Mark replied calmly, putting his empty cup on his nightstand. 

"In our language, ' _no'_ sometimes means yes," being the best buddy he was, Lu Han yanked the book out of his friend's hands and closed it, at which Mark frowned. 

"What for, even?" he sighed, knowing it's useless to fight Lu Han. 

Lu Han was digging in his closet, throwing things out of it on the ground, which irritated Mark to his very bone. He was neat and always nagged Lu Han about it. It was sometimes difficult to walk around when the floor looked like made of clothes. 

"Wear something warm and fancy, maybe something traditional?"

"I don't have any traditional clothes with me," Mark eyed him suspiciously, "if you wanted to take me to a treasure hunt, you should've told me earlier, so I could've prepared myself."

"Doesn't matter, I'll lend you some."

"Fine, but no purple!"

"Of course, it's gonna be purple, my _queen._ " Right then, Lu Han was throwing clothes even on Mark's bed, "do you have any fitting shoes?"

"For this?" Mark grabbed at the silky purple waistcoat, "no, I don't, and I don't think I should wear that. Where did you even get that?"

"Don't be like _that_!" Lu Han started to undress, "you'll look amazing."

"Can you be, _please,_ more specific about what is going on here?" 

There was so little Mark understand about the whole situation. He sighed when his friend started to mumble something about old legends and that it's only once per hundred years and that Mark should've been grateful, which Mark was not, because he wanted to read and not to wander in the cold, wet and dark forest. Lu Han gave him a scolding look when Mark retorted with, _'that's so childish.'_ With his white tunic already on, Lu Han strode quickly to Mark and started to fumble with Mark's Adidas sweatshirt and his tank top, not looking quite amused.

"Alright, _fine_!" Mark slapped his hands away. 

"Wear it!"

The sudden change in his friend's mood was a bit frightening for Mark. Why so much fuzzing because of one stupid trip? And who even goes treasure hunting these days? Mark stood up from his bend and inspected every piece of the clothing Lu Han gave him. He wanted to ask where the hell he did buy these. It looked like a movie costume, quality handwork, but Mark couldn't find any label or initials. The fabric was still soft, but the white blouse was fading into a very light shade of apricot. Mark sniffed at the clothes and reminded surprise when he could smell plum blossoms. 

Mark stared at Lu Han, who was already dressed up and was now tying his boots. 

"Where did you get these?" Mark held a handful of his costume in his hands, "Lu Han!" 

The latter sighed, annoyed, "My cousins' wife is a tailor for a movie studio. They had to discard some clothes after the movie they were working on was finished, so she gave them to me."

Mark gasped at that, "isn't this very expensive?"

"Could it be?" Lu Han shrugged.

Something about his friend's posture bothered Mark. Not that Lu Han had ever lied to him, he was nothing but a good friend since day one, but right now, Mark wouldn't put his hand into the fire for him. His expression, the always cheerful and young face, was now full of shadows, and an odd wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. 

"This is the studio's property then." Mark was still standing there with his nose full of the fantastic fragrance. 

"No, it's not!" Lu Han put his hands on his sides, "there's no label, so wear it!"

"But—"

"Yien, for the last time!" Lu Han snapped at him, "we don't have time!"

"Like _yeah,_ " Mark chuckled skeptically, "the treasure is miraculously gonna vanish when the midnight bells—"

"Don't even finish that!" Lu Han pointed his finger at him, "and dress up!" 

"So bossy!" he rolled his eyes.

Mark sprawled the clothes over his bed. The pants looked so worn out that it was a miracle that it was still in one piece. Why it was a purple coat with men's pants, he had no idea. Only the royalty or women wore purple in the ancient days. Well, if it was tailored, the worn-out special effect wasn't real, at least Mark thought, but then he put the pants through his ass, and he was quite surprised how good they fit his slender body. 

"In what movie they used this?" Mark asked, "it seems a bit inaccurate." 

"Stop asking and dress up!" Lu Han groaned in frustration, "why are you like _that_?" 

Mark pouted at him with no effect since Lu Han turned his back to him, probably because he thought Mark wanted some privacy, not like they didn't see each other naked over the past three years. 

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," Lu Han muttered, "you better be ready then." 

While dressing up, Mark thought about the switch in his friend's mood. It wasn't like Lu Han to act so strictly towards him. And what was happening with his face? He looked suddenly ten years older than Mark. If he was trying to prank him with Tao and the rest of the guys, Mark swore to the lord that he's going to whip them. Maybe even kick their asses. His mind was occupied with his friends when Mark realized that he's already dressed. He opened Lu Han's closet, which was the only place where was a full-length mirror, and inspected himself. 

"This is so inaccurate," Mark clicked his tongue, "in which dynasty even…"

"Are you ready?!" Lu Han's voice startled him. 

"I _am,_ but…" with a heavy sigh, Mark closed the door and revealed himself for his friend.

The silence was almost awkward, and the look Lu Han gave him was virtually melting Mark's whole existence like cotton candy. What was wrong with this man? The mood switches were crazy. Even his features softened, and Mark could see that he was sorry for his earlier blunt behavior. If Mark didn't know better, he would say that Lu Han admired him, which sounded crazy. 

"You look stunning," Lu Han bowed his head. That goddamn _asshole_ bowed his head and made three steps back to move out of Mark's way. 

"Very funny."

"We don't have much time," he opened the door for Mark, "hurry up, Yien."

Mark stared at him, bewildered and out of breath when he realized that Lu Han was probably roleplaying with him. _Yeah,_ that could be it. He felt relieved, but just for a moment because when Lu Han stepped out of the room, Mark could swear he saw a dark shadow covering his face, deforming his young and beautiful face with scars. 

**

Mark tried to ignore all the curious and amused looks in the train as they processed deeper into their coupe. One woman even addressed him as _his majesty._ That was it. Mark knew this bullshit was out of their hands. He wanted nothing but to rip off his clothes. Even sitting half-naked would be better than putting up with the judging stares. He also tried to justify their escapades with _'we're just roleplaying. It's a treasure hunt.'_ But people ignored him and continue to address him as _'majesty.'_

"You put me into fault clothes! I knew it!" Mark cursed at his friend when Lu Han opened the coupe door and revealed Tao with Henry. 

"So, it was a joke!" Mark snarled, "look at you guys!" Both men had the same clothes as Lu Han.

It looked like they had fun exchanging knowing looks between them while leaving Mark confused as hell. Nobody said a word when Lu Han sat him down in the middle of the opposite seat. The three men were bundled together in front of him as if Mark smelled. 

"You're not funny, not at all." Mark folded his arms over his chest, "at least you could've borrowed a car. We look like idiots."

Henry eyed him curiously before he leaned to Lu Han and whispered into his ear. Nobody told Mark about roleplaying or that his friends probably decided to kidnap him into the woods and get rid of him. How reliable were his friends anyway? Mark remembered now that he had met them all on the first day he entered the school complex. Lu Han was the earliest, and it almost looked like he's been waiting for Mark to show up. Then out of nowhere, Tao showed up when Mark had got lost and couldn't find the library, only to realize that the university plan he had printed earlier at home was old. Tao was so freaking handsome that Mark had a little problem concentrating on anything he was telling him. 

"Henry," Mark addressed the oldest out of them, "you left Kris out?" 

They were all the same age, but Mark suddenly felt younger, about a hundred years. If someone put drugs into his tea or the tea was made of drugs, or maybe the clothes Lu Han gave him were intoxicated, perhaps it was not even Henry and Tao sitting in front of him.

"Kris will meet us on the spot," Henry answered. 

"I thought we're friends," Mark pouted childishly, "I think I'm gonna start using suffix with you guys."

"We should," Tao lowered his head, " _shéng._ " 

Mark opened his mouth in shock, but no words came out. And then the train was moving finally, and Mark thought how doomed he was with his drugged friends pulling a prank on him. Well, that's what he deserved for being the prankster himself. 

Though Mark tried to pry information and poke his friends, even tried skinship at Lu Han, the three men remained cold like a stone. How was Lu Han opening the door cheerfully like a kid one second and then bowing and calling him ' _Yien'_ the next? Maybe it was the spring air. Hong Kong was blossoming like a garden. 

"How long?" Mark moved to the window an hour ago. He was bored, drumming his fingers on the surface of the window parapet. Henry dared to look straight into his eyes for two seconds, and then he bowed his head again. Mark crossed his legs and sighed. 

"I should sue you all."

**

It felt refreshing as the spring wind was playing with Mark's black hair. For a moment, he could forget about his brainwashed friends and enjoy the beauty of nature. The mountains above the horizons were still full of snow, but the trees that contoured the road had already fully blossomed into beautiful green shades. Mark smiled for himself. With each step on the path, Mark was sure that his friends would soon share their secrets with him. No treasure hunting had ever been so mysterious for Mark, but inside, he doubted that it was the same thing. Mark was a nature lover, but he had never seen this side of the national park. 

"Is this legal?" Mark asked when they entered the woods, and a warning sign popped out from behind the trees. 

"It's saying that only the right one can see the true mysteries of this wood," Kris revealed himself, wearing the same clothes as the rest of the three. Mark no longer asked things. It was better only to watch where this was going. 

"So, do you mind, I'll go alone," Mark chuckled at them, but the four men didn't bother with the insult. "You're not funny at all!" He complained. 

Irritated to the marrow of his bone, Mark ignored them and decided to put an abrupt end to their stupid game. He swiftly stepped into the wood with growing anger when suddenly the wind stopped playing with the leaves, and every chirp of birds has died on the spot. Mark turned around to look at his friends, who were still standing in the clearing. Fear replaced his anger as Mark sensed coldness creeping over his spine as if fingertips were dancing on his neck. He had never felt that intense goosebumps. He crossed an invisible barrier that was now separating him from his friends. The sunlight barely penetrated the thick mass of the trees. 

Nobody said a word, and for a second, Mark thought Lu Han couldn't even see him as he was looking around clueless. Mark was frozen on the spot. 

"Once per one hundred years," Lu Han suddenly said, his eyes finally meeting Mark's frightened ones. 

He couldn't grasp the sensation boiling in his veins as he listened to Lu Han's voice. Word afterword, he told Mark the general legend that could cross the borders with the mortal world to find his beloved one. 

"What is going on here?" Mark's heart hammered in his ears loudly like war drums. 

"What if he won't remember?" Tao asked, worried. 

"He will! We finally found him."

"Guys, this is not funny!" Mark cried desperately, still unable to move. 

"We still have fifteen minutes till midnight," Kris nodded at them. 

"What midnight! It's four in the afternoon!" 

Mark felt his body getting cold and paralyzed from the fear. More than not moving out of the shock, it felt like something was holding him on the spot. He clutched the hem of his coat to ground himself, but his legs continued to buckle, and soon, Mark found himself kneeling on the wet soil. The darkness around him intensified as if someone painted a picture. With every brush, the surrounding looked darker and darker. Mark looked at his friends from behind the branches; the bright light from the other side almost blinded him. 

It couldn't be real. 

"Don't be scared, _shéng,_ " Tao said gently, "don't fight your destiny." 

"I'm not _holy_!" Mark shrieked, tears spilling out of his eyes as he couldn't stand the paralyzing pain running down his spine like an electric current. His lungs felt like on fire, but the air was getting colder and colder. As Mark noticed the steam coming out of his mouth, everything else has crumbled behind him. He dug his fingers into the dirt, watching his skin turning cold purple. 

Was he dying? 

For the last time, Mark looked at his friends before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious on the ground. 

**

It couldn't be a dream, not even a nightmare, or lucid dreaming, Mark had these many times, and not even doctors could explain how he could dream so vividly. Right now, as he woke up in the middle of the dark wood, he felt such a vast scale of emotions that it no way it could be a dream. It took him a few long minutes before his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. When Mark looked up, he saw the Moon shining in a sharp C. 

"What is this?" Mark whispered, not even recognizing his own voice anymore. 

He wanted to call for his friends, but somehow the tense atmosphere around him didn't allow him to raise his voice. What if it would attract wild animals or, even worse, demons? Wait a moment, _demons_? Mark blinked in confusion. Since when was he such a scared cat to believe in night creatures? 

Mark stood up, sweeping off the dirt off his clothes. Standing there like a frightened child wouldn't explain anything. Without his friends, Mark was left alone in the middle of unknown wood, but something strange, like a gentle summer breeze, was whispering to him and showing him the way. Mark also could suffer hallucinations as he might hit his head when he collapsed. The attempt to tried to stay sober and don't yield to the absurd legend fell apart as he felt a whisper near his ear.

The first step was freeing and light. The twigs loudly cracked under Mark's boots, which, surprisingly, felt comforting, even when the noise could also attract animals. Mark was slowly losing his fears as he continued walking forward and breathing in the cold and earthy air. Maybe it was the magic around him, the unnatural viscous dark, and the clothes he was wearing that kept him warm. Mark brought his hands to his face and took a deep breath. The long sleeves, which brushed against his lips and nose, still smelled like flowers. He remembered someone who loved the plum smell dearly. 

Someone's name rose in his mind like an old, long-time forgotten memory. 

_A name._

Mark lowered his hands, listening to the gentle whispering of the wind, as he followed the melody. 

The warmth settled inside his stomach and brought up thousands of butterflies, tickling Mark's skin and his lips all over again. He felt a strange sensation over his mouth, as if someone was walking right in front of him but backward.

Mark had never believed in ghosts, and right now, he had no recollection of such an entity. His mind was cleared out of doubts. He was being allured and bewitched by the mystery. All he knew was that he had to keep walking towards his destiny, without fear, with his pure soul until he would find the source, the place where light meets darkness. 

Underworld. 

A growl interrupted Mark's thought. It couldn't be anything out of this world when the two red eyes followed him from the blackness like a hunter. Mark felt the strength rising into his arms, his muscled tensed, and he quickly reached for the amber dagger he didn't even know he had behind his belt. 

"We'll protect you!" Kris' voice penetrated the mist that suddenly rose from the ground like hands trying to slow down and capture Mark again. "Keep going, _Yien!_ " 

One after another, growl, and howling, inhuman cacophonic noises enclosed Mark like a thick blanket. All four men were already around him, their magic and swords protecting Mark. But it shouldn't be like _that!_ Mark knew how to fight! He was born as a fighter, a martial arts champion, and his dagger's handle felt natural around his slender fingers. 

"Cover my back!" Mark reached for one of the swords Henry had behind his belt and _ran._

He ran through the monsters and his fears and doubts to his general. 

_His_ king. 

The man who his beloved ones betrayed. 

Jia'er Wang, the man whom Yien swore he would protect him with his own life. 

The love of his life. 

Mark ran until he could no more.

**

_'Saint, you're a saint. Only a saint can give me love as pure as yours.'_

The noises fell apart behind Mark's back as he dropped the sword on the grass. The light that surrounded the clearing before him enlightened his face and pierced his eyes. There, by the oak tree with red and golden leaves, was a tombstone. Mark set his food across the border into the bright glow. Every drop of blood evaporated into the holy fire, the stream disappearing into the tops of trees. No more was Mark scared of the monstrous growls behind him because he had his loyal men behind his back and holiness by his side. Jia'er would never lie to him. 

Mark remembered the river where he used to train; the temple used to stand near to his general's final resting place after his cousin had killed him in his sleep. The roots of evil, the betrayal that came fallen across the village of the king born from the blood and mystery of his enemy, was a hundred years later renamed to Hunan.

He fought the war for Jia'er. He held his hands and gave him the strength which every general needed. 

"Summon him, _shéng,_ " Lu Han said gently, "only you can."

"He's been waiting for you for four hundred years." 

Mark felt tears pricking out of his eyes. The sting was painful, as if he hadn't stopped crying since the last time he held Jia'er's body. Had he ever had enough tears to ease his pain after he lost his beloved general? 

It felt surreal, like a spell when Mark's mind opened the doors for him and finally saw where all the lucid dreams were coming from. The face of the beautiful and sad man always crossed his mind, but Mark could never grasp the shape so that he could put it on the paper. Were these his past lives where Jia'er had tried to reach for him but failed? 

Mark's chest squeezed painfully as his body trembled with sudden emotions that overpowered him like a wave. The agony had never disappeared but was always sleeping deep inside Mark's heart and waiting. He felt the same as the day when he held his general's lifeless body in his arms. The blood was dripping from his hands as his eyes turned into seas of tears. He could no longer see the beautiful face of his… _promised_? 

Where was Mark, the right hand of his general, when his cousin came to stab him to death? 

"He wanted to connect our lives for eternity," Mark closed his eyes. That's why he was wearing purple. He wore his old wedding clothes in which he was buried after the bloody battle with Jia'er's cousin. 

"He's still waiting for you, _shéng._ "

"Am I?" Mark snapped his eyes open, "holy, though?" 

Mark took the last few steps before he kneeled in front of the tombstone. With his fingers, he traced the letters on the cold, grey stone. Again, the sensation of a hand touching his face made him purr like a weakling newborn. He could feel the strong presence that overpowered him just by breathing. 

It was like yesterday when he was fooling and laughing in the room with his lover; they were exercising, and Jia'er complained about how Yien had always let him win. They shouldn't touch their bodies sensually or kiss each other's lips because Mark was trained as a monk in the temple. His relationship with the general was doomed the day their eyes met on the holy ground's doorstep. 

How was Yien holy when he had broken every rule that the temple set to him? 

Mark stood up and took a few steps back from the grave. He looked at the tree, listening to the foliage noise. Every leaf was whispering his name and calling him. It was time to end their suffering. Mark held his breath as his loyal soldiers circled him in a respective distance. 

The warm breeze has penetrated Mark's clothes like hands, not moving a single piece of the fabric. Mark felt his heart beating wildly in his ribcage like a caged bird; he wanted out and touch the real _thing,_ the skin, the lips that were ghosting over his body. 

Mark lolled his head on the side, leaning it against the invisible palm. 

_'Come back to me.'_

With the final words hovering around him, Mark's eyes snapped open. He lifted and bend his arms, prepared for the summoning ritual. 

The skies above the clearing turned red, and orange like a phoenix, a swirl of wind lifted leaves and dirt into the air, and with the last movement of his hands, Mark sealed the ritual. Sparks and droplets of water penetrated the hot air around them. From the oak tree roots, from under the soil, and burning mist, a figure raised. Thick grey clouds overshadowed the colorful skies as the fire was rising higher and higher. 

Mark held his breath, his eyes hazed by the picture-perfect of his general. When the rain began to fall, Jia'er's body started to be visible in the burning cage, trying to put out the blaze. But the water evaporated before it could even touch his skin. 

_He_ was real and as beautiful as Mark remembered him. The desire to be touched and cradled into the strong arms was unbearable. Mark's insides burned with passion. It was four hundred years but also only one day since he held Jia'er in his arms. Mark sank to his knees, his hands trembling. As the fire was easing out, the wind brought the droplets south to Mark's face and the last of sparkles. 

The heat was breathtaking and melting his skin, but Mark stood his ground, watching as his lover was trying to stand up on his legs after four-hundred years. Jia'er was the same, wearing the same clothes, but without armor, as when Mark saw him the last time when he was cleaning his wounds and putting him to sleep. 

"My love," Yien reached desperately for his general, trying to overcome the burning sensation, but his legs gave in, and he ended up crawling through the hot wind and sparkles. 

They met halfway, reaching for each other. Mark clasped his hand on his shoulder, the touch electrifying. It couldn't be a dream anymore, not even reality; only death could bring miracles between two realms. Before Mark could move further, Jia'er's hands pierced through the air and cupped his face. The gentle touch on his face made Mark close his eyes. He couldn't breathe or talk properly. If Mark felt like melting before, then now he was experiencing a perfect nirvana. He felt thumb tracing his lips and whispering words of love he had never heard before. The ancient language felt like a tongue of lovers.

" _Yien_." The soft voice was opening Mark's heart beyond explanation.

"I'm here." 

The rain stopped before it could wet them, but Mark's face was already stained with tears as he desperately held onto Jia'er's hands. 

"Four hundred years," the general whispered, "where have you been?"

The tone of his lover's voice broke Mark's heart all over again, "I don't…" Mark gulped the air and bowed his head, gravely, "forgive me." 

"The age has changed so much," He gently lifted Yien's head back, "but you're still as beautiful as when I saw you for the last time." 

"I will never change," Mark pulled himself closer, dared to breathe the air between them, "my love will never change. No matter how many times we die, how often will they separate us, I will love you the same." 

"Then," before their lips could meet, Jia'er gently caressed Yien's lips with his fingers, stopping him effectively from the kiss, "will you join me?" 

Mark searched in his eyes, "you're the only one that I need." Pushing forward and breaking the silent command, Mark pressed his lips against his lover's. 

No more ghost touches or whispering loving words against Mark's ears. Only real palms were traveling under his clothes, fingers curiously moving across his skin. The next thing Mark felt was as Jia'er opened his coat, pushing it off his shoulder until it laid forgotten on the ground. The two strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him forward into Jiar’er lap until Mark was straddling him. 

"I will wait no longer." 

The last thing Mark heard was his name gently whispered into his hair _over and over_ again, as Jia'er held onto him dearly while the hot flames started consuming the leaves around them until they reached them and devoured their bodies. 

It didn't hurt; nothing had ever hurt as much as when Yien was separated from his lover. 

No flames.

No separation.

Not even death. 

The sparkles flitted in the air like fireflies, cracking the darkness as if it was made of solid material. Nothing else reminded me but ashes and the smell of plum blossoms. 

_Silence._

Lu Han inhaled for the last time and nodded. Now, they can finally rest with their general. 

**

_A year later_

"That's so strange!" Gabrielle frowned at the picture in the book he once gave to his son.

"You're looking into this book again?" Her husband sighed, "honey, why are you torturing yourself like this."

It's been a year since Mark disappeared without a trace. The last time someone saw him was on the train that aimed to the north, to Hunan. Since then, Mark was missing together with his four friends from the university. Police were clueless, and after seven months, they had decided to close the case. However, Gabrielle hired a private detective and hoped that she would have his son's remains to bury one day. 

She shook her head. _No,_ Mark was _alive_! He was a fighter, a survivor; he would never give up. 

But now, as she was going through the pages of the book she gave Mark before he went to college, she couldn't remember if the book had any pictures. But this _one,_ the only one on the first page of the story of ' _General and his hundred,'_ was an old traditional painting of two men, and one of them looked awfully like her son. 

"Yien…" she said breathlessly as her shaking fingers caressed the page. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"It's Mark," her lips trembled, "it's Yien."

"Gabrielle, that's nonsense!" 

She shook her head violently, clutching the book against her chest. "it's true!" 

"Alright," he sighed, defeated, "hug the damn book all you want!" 

Closing her eyes tightly, she heard as her husband walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone. _No,_ mothers always knew; they had a special instinct, a power that could sense their children in miles, years, in dynasties, ages, and different lives. 

"He found _him,_ " she whispered through her tears, "he found _him_ …"

**Author's Note:**

> You came here! Amazing!  
> Thank you for reading. Tell me what do you think. It was a bit bolt from me to, you know to step into the undiscovered territory of Chinese mythology. Like the fractions, i know about the legends and all that... like 0,001%
> 
> if i could blabber about markson a bit and why the lyrics of 100 ways remind me of Mark so much. but i'm sure you know why.  
> anyway, at least the quarantine is good for writing.
> 
> follow me on twitter (?): @foxiemark


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